


but we stick to our guns (and we love like battleships)

by thatbluebox



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbluebox/pseuds/thatbluebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, in old films whenever a girl gets seriously kissed her foot would just -" Up goes to the orange flip flop. " - pop." </p><p>// aka that time when Skye realizes that her own 'foot pop' is a natural disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but we stick to our guns (and we love like battleships)

**Author's Note:**

> getting this in before it gets confirmed or erased in canon, even if it's crack. chronologically, this fic takes place while skye is on the bus in the cage, to some time while she's with the inhumans. my only reasoning is that this wouldn't leave me ever since the idea came to me last night. you know, what if /your/ foot pop was measured in the amount of destruction you could wreck? this is only promoted by my headcanon of you know, when [cough] they do bang, they'll need a vibraninum bed. i'm not even sorry. 
> 
>  
> 
> also: there is some lincoln/skye in this. but i'm skyeward trash so you can guess how it'll be used (and how if anything romantic were to transpire it might go like this). 
> 
> ps. the title and song i listened to while writing this is called 'battleships' by chris daughtry (ikr i'm emotional too)

_The Princess Diaries_ goes in exactly two minutes after _Paranormal Activity._

"What -" Fitz protests. Popcorn tumbles from his bowl - the one, Skye might add, he's been clutching onto ever since the credits - and pools in his lap. "Hey, no fair. I thought I was picking the next one!"

Skye throws a look over her shoulder, "Paranormal was your choice, remember?" 

Fitz attempts to settle back down on her cot in a huff. 

(It's difficult when the vibranium digs into your back. He ignores it for her.)

"And it was an excellent choice." He busies himself with his shirt as she stares at him. "Very perceptive."

"Uh huh,"  She quickly bites back her comment about not being able to sleep for a week; they both know neither of them sleep anyways. Skye turns back towards her laptop and presses play as the menu appears. "Well buckle up, _laddie_ ," Fitz winces at Skye's terrible accent, which only makes her grin wider. " - you are about to rediscover the greatness of Anne Hathaway and Julie Andrews." 

Fitz groans. 

 

*

 

_"You know, in old films whenever a girl gets seriously kissed her foot would just -"_

Up goes to the orange flip flop.

 " - _pop._ "

Skye pauses mid chew, "Bullshit," She announces unceremoniously. 

Fitz makes no comment, and when she turns to face him, he's passed out beside her. 

She snorts. "Missing my stellar commentary, buddy."

 

She turns back to her laptop screen, settling back into the pillows. 

Without really meaning to, her thoughts stray to her own first kiss. Or kisses.

Jake Allens. He was eight, she was six. There were giggles of cooties as they stood toe to toe, their friends encircled around them. The apartment building of her current foster parents behind her, blocking the afternoon sun. No, no foot popping there. Perhaps it would have happened during her teenage years when she had her first proper make out. Except - Skye scrunches up her nose at the memory - there had been sweaty hands and fumbling as Chris tried to unclasp her bra. It was no wonder why there was no magical foot pop. Even Miles, nearly a decade later, didn't create this magical foot pop Anne Hathway kept talking of. 

 

And her last kiss -

 

_And you - what do you want?_

_What I want?_

 

 

She reaches over and abruptly hits stop.  

Okay, maybe wrong movie choice.

 

*

 

Unfortunately, that stupid foot pop won't get out of her head. 

 

*

 

 

"I mean, the variables are innumerable," Jemma continues, shaking her head as she draws a sample of Skye's blood. "Obviously your powers react to your emotions - whether you are feeling threatened, unsettled, fearful -" Jemma waves a hand in thought, "And I imagine they'd cultivate under powerful emotions of adrenaline, euphoria, excitement, desire, attraction - "

"Attraction?" Skye's head whips up. 

" - the possibilities are endless. I suppose it all depends on how much you of feel it." Jemma stops, registering Skye's comment. It takes her a moment to formulate her thoughts, before delicately approaching the subject.  "Well, theoretically - " Jemma starts listing possible theories of chemicals and hormones and _really_ , Skye is more preoccupied by the sudden image of creating the world's largest crater just because she _plants one on someone._

(Not that Skye had any plans to. Her love life is the least of her worries at the moment.)

Jemma pulls back from her, rolling down Skye's sleeves in the process.  "You'll get control of it." Skye comes back to, and attempts to reciprocate Jemma's small smile. It's more of a grimace. "You alright?" Jemma's hand tentatively brushes her arm. 

Skye forces a brighter smile. "Just thinking about all the future cats I am to adopt." 

"Oh, Skye."

 

Once she's left alone again in the cage, Skye falls back onto her cot.

(Was her foot pop really the same as a natural disaster?)

"Great," She drapes a hand over her eyes, "What doesn't scream romantic more than an impromptu earthquake?"  

 

*

 

She should have known it was silly. 

 

*

 

His mouth is hard against hers.  

Lincoln presses into her, fingers curling into her hair as he pushes her up against the balcony. She reaches up a hand to pull him down closer, tasting salt in his kiss. His hands gravitate towards her waist, pulling her closer, closer. She lets him. Wraps her hands around him. Ignores how the balcony is digging uncomfortably into her spine. Or tries to.  

_C'mon._

(She's waiting for it.)

 

His stubble brushes against her cheek, and for a moment she pictures someone else kissing her. 

She pushes down that thought. Pushes down  _him_. 

(His face burns behind her eyelids.)

 

 

Skye throws herself even more into the kiss.

 _A godsend_ , she reminds herself.  _A distraction_ , a small voice says.

Lincoln makes a noise under her as she bites down on his lip. Skye holds onto the front of his shirt, lets her nails scratch him. She feels him gasp into the kiss, feels a sense of satisfaction. Heat travels down her spine, and she's pretty sure her heart is beating faster than it should be. Most definitely sure. No, she won't think how his body fits awkwardly against hers; she just has to find the right angle. This is nice, this is safe - _no, this is better than safe - it's - it's_ - 

Skye can't tell if it's just her fingers shaking or if there is a slight tremor beneath their feet. 

 _Really,_ thats it? She's caused more destruction just by spilling her coffee, for the love of -

 

She breaks apart from him.

 

 

Frustration courses through her, and her hands ball into fists at her sides.

The ground trembles underfoot, and Lincoln stumbles forward against her. A potted plant falls over the sill, splintering onto the stone.

 

He grins, _"Whoops."_

Skye looks up at him, his grin eager and a tiny big smug from what he thinks their kiss caused. He doesn't know. 

 

Her mouth feels dry. "Whoops." 

 

*

 

The first time she sees him a crater opens between them.

He's on the other side of the field, standing next to a pair of black SUV's. They didn't tell her _he_ was going to be here. Didn't tell her that _he_ was the asset helping them.  She would have never agreed to this, never would have agreed to come all the way out here. She wasn't prepared for this, wasn't prepared for this to be their first meeting since - well, _since._

White, hot anger burns through her. She's angry at Lincoln for not warning her, despite him knowing nothing of her history with Ward. Angry that they had enlisted him after everything he's done - didn't they know? Angry at him for being there, cool, collected, and dressed in his familiar black kevlar that brings back too many memories. And above all, angry at herself for being so effected by him after all this time, revealed through the electric current under her skin. At how her breath gets caught in her throat at the sight of him a mere distance away. The shear relief, anger, guilt and confusion that renders her speechless. 

Her blood sings.

Her powers respond accordingly.

 

She hears someone shout her name.

The crater is a yawning fissure between them, fracturing the ground from below her feet. She watches as he twists around, surprised. Sees as his eyes find hers almost methodically. They always could, no matter where she was. The ground rocks dangerously as their eyes meet, and Skye feels her stomach bottom out.

 

_An impromptu earthquake._

 

_*_

 

_"Skye,"_

Ward's staring her down, jaw clenching.

Well, whatever, he can brood all he likes, she's having none of it. And she's on a roll. 

"I don't care if you think that's the best plan, I'm saying it's not. And this is my call, so you can stick it - "

 _"Skye."_ He says again, as if he's drawing her attention to something and - _oh god_. Skye looks up to see that the plaster is coming down from the rafters. To her left the table wobbles, while their blueprints and pens slide off from the force of the quake. Her breath hitches in her throat, and she struggles for a moment to  _shut it off_. Forcefully pushes down the thrumming in her veins, the tingling sensation she always feels whenever she's in close proximity to him. 

"Sorry." She says automatically. Takes a breath. Forces her chin up. 

"You know," He says dryly, " - if we're going to work together, I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to bring the roof down on us." Ward's voice barely conceals his irritation. 

Anger flares up within her.  _How dare he -_

"Guess we're just _oh-so_ lucky you bring out the best in of me, huh." She throws back at him.

He turns to give her a look. 

 

 

A minute later Lincoln pushes open the door. 

It comes off its hinges.

"Christ," He says, as he catches it awkwardly. "Did I miss something?"

 

 *

 

It's a long time coming.

It's the end of the mission and the extraction is on its way. They're standing on the cliff face, waiting for the smudge of the helicopter to emerge amidst the grey clouds. The wind is howling in their ears and now is the time Grant Ward decides to have a heart to heart just because they _nearly died_ , and _Skye what I've been trying to say -_

She crashes into him. Literally.

The cold wind stings her cheeks, and her hair is in her face, but all she can feel is _him_. His lips bruise hers, gentle at first before giving in to the need thats been there for the past several months. Her hands move up his face, scraping stubble, up into his hair. She pulls him down, and he wraps a steady hand around her waist to pull up onto her toes. He groans into her mouth, and she swallows it.

Everything is bursting in colour and energy and Skye can barely contain it - barely stand the power that is coursing through her body

\- _and it feels glorious._

A crashing sound echoes across the bay, and next to them a part of the cliffside crumbles into the ocean. Behind them trees split from the fissures that race from their figures, and a cloud of birds arc into the sky in a black cloud. The waves arch higher, and the spray catches the weak sunlight in a sparkling disarray. 

Ward holds her closer, barely keeping them from stumbling over the edge.

It's terrifying and it's magical.  

_"You know, in old films whenever a girl gets seriously kissed her foot would just - pop."_

 

Skye smiles against his lips, her foot springing upwards.

 

 

* 

 

**Author's Note:**

> then they bang and cause an 8.1 earthquake.


End file.
